Chasing Shadows
by Hafgan9
Summary: The Church wanted that artifact badly enough, though the Light alone knows why. Bartimaeus Dawnbringer, the paladin sent to retrieve it, soon finds out that someone else also wanted it. And finding them is only the beginning.
1. Chapter 1

_Sir,_

_We have secured the village as per our orders, but to our surprise, it appears to have only recently been abandoned completely. We searched all the buildings extensively. Alas, we have been unable to locate the artifact. I found the enclosed sheet of parchment in one of the houses – it might be of importance, quite possibly related to whoever was here recently. _

- was tending the herb garden when I received the news. I am hardly what one might call an accomplished gardener, but it has been many months since Winterdawn vanished in the frozen wastes of Northrend and, all things considered, I do not expect to meet him in this world again. I was enjoying the patter of the rain on the top of my skull when I heard Cael's boots squelching in the mud behind me.

'Master?' He spoke hesitantly.

'If you've come to help with the gardening, those weeds need to go to the compost heap.'

Far too flippant a remark, I soon realised. If I had a heart it would have sunk by then, for if Cael was in a nervous frame of mind, whatever matter he wished to discuss must be of some dire import.

'No. I bring a message from the girl.'

'She has a name, Cael. Your half-sister deserves to be referred to by her name, surely?'

And the tense silence that followed stretched out for many long seconds. That the poor child has drawn a better lot in life than most of her siblings is no-one's fault, least of all mine, but not everyone can see the way it is. Cael's weary, exaggerated sigh broke the silence.

'Aveline brought to me news of some significance. Here.'

He reached out from the depths of the musty cloak that shrouded his form, holding a battered envelope. I took it, pointedly neglecting to mention that it appeared to have been opened and resealed before reaching me.

Opening the envelope – again – and finding within a single sheet of parchment, in the neat hand of my dear daughter, I read through the letter with a growing sense of foreboding. If she had gone to the risk of writing to me, something was most certainly amiss. Reaching the end of the missive, I steadied my hand and forced myself to carefully fold it up and replace it in the envelope. She had thought to inform me of the death of the man who was one of my greatest enemies and one of my greatest friends. His remains burned like rubbish, a great man whom I would have gifted with undeath in the blink of an eye is gone from this world forever. The foolishness of mortals astounds me.

I am glad that Aveline wrote to me, rather than bringing her message in person. Her time is not yet, oh no. One day she, too, will be saved from the fate of all living things, but that day has yet to come. Though she may struggle and plead and fight against it, she will thank me for it in the end. Had she come to me directly, I may have been tempted to turn her there and then, to prevent any further...regrettable incidents. As it happens, I-

_The remaining papers that presumably accompanied this are nowhere to be found. By your leave, I wish to extend our mission in these cursed lands. The artifact is evidently not here and, worse, I fear we have a necromancer at large. I pray this message and its bearer reach you safely. Light be with you. _

_- Bartimaeus Dawnbringer. _

_Postscript: Sending some of those herbs back with this message for analysis.  
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	2. Chapter 2

[Author's note: It's about time. Updates will be more frequent.]

A document stored in the archives of the Church of Light, pertaining to the most recent mission undertaken by Sir Bartimaeus Dawnbringer.

_Transcript of an arcane sending._

Dawnbringer –

Do what you must. Regarding the items your messenger brought back: the herbs are quite ordinary plants, but we appreciate your concern. The document you retrieved is of more interest. Find this person. Take great care in doing so, your assessment of the situation is likely accurate.

- Rathbone

_The woman reaches out a small hand from under her voluminous cloak to grasp the heavy iron knocker, set into a studded oaken door. It thuds against the age-blackened wood once and she casts a nervous glance over her shoulder as the sound echoes in the near-deserted back street. She turns again to the door at the sound of bolts sliding back, of muffled cursing as the latch clicks and the door creaks open a hand's width. A single, beady eye peers out at her through the crack between door and jamb. _

_'Give it a shove, will you? It sticks something rotten in the damp.' _

_One more glance over her shoulder, then the woman obliges, almost throwing her small frame against the scarred, solid wood. Stumbling as the door finally swings inwards. The man inside catches her as she staggers through the doorway. He stands little taller than her, but there would seem to be a certain wiry strength to him as he steadies her with some ease, then steps back. _

_'I was told to expect you. What's that you have with you? Documents the Church gave you, aye?' _

_He gestures towards the heavy leather satchel slung over her shoulder and she smiles, though the expression seems to not quite reach her eyes._

_'Something of that nature. Yes. The Church sent me. They felt I should hear from a more...impartial source. To be perfectly honest, I suspect they are of the belief that you know more than you are willing to let on.' _

_He laughs at that, then thumps his chest and coughs, a solemn look crossing his lined, sun-touched features. _

_'Pardon me, Priestess. 'Tis a serious matter, right enough.'_

_He pauses, his gaze flickering away from her for a few brief seconds. _

_'Aye. Well, mayhap there's a few things I can tell you that you've not heard before. I suppose you'd best come in proper and sit down.'_

_The woman casts her gaze around her properly for the first time. The corridor stretches but a few paces in front of her, lit by the faint glow of a single oil lantern hanging in a bracket on the wall, with a door set in the far end and another to their left. The faint smell of damp stone finally registers and she wrinkles her nose, bringing a hand up to her face almost reflexively, then dropping it back down again as she seems to notice the motion. _

_'Like an abandoned tomb, aye. Dank, cold and dark, is it not?' He fixes her with a gap-toothed grin, faltering as he sees her shudder._

_'Your pardon, ma'am. An apt comparison, but maybe not an appropriate one. I only thought, well, it's a bit gloomy here of late, which I suppose is only to be expected, what with one thing and another.' He pushes the door open as he speaks and steps inside, holding it open for her to enter behind him. _

_'It's no matter, really.' She gives a small shrug, shifting her gaze away from him. _

_'You are sure of that? I had no wish to bring back any bad memories, if-'_

_'Quite sure. Thank you for your concern.' Her tone is brittle, with the hint of a razor's edge, as she forces her gaze back to him. _

_'Well then, miss. I suppose you'd best sit yourself down and make yourself comfortable.' Her host paces over to the fireplace and prods at the embers with the poker. He half-lifts the cast-iron kettle off its hook and nods slightly as he tests its weight. _

_'I'll get us started while the tea's brewing. Assuming you'd like tea?'_

_She nods, once, seeming more focused on shrugging off her cloak as she perches herself on a three- legged stool close by the fire. _

_'Please.' _

_He goes about setting the kettle over the fire to boil and spooning tea leaves out of a tin into an enormous teapot, finding a spare mug in the cupboard and apologising for the state the sparsely-__furnished and, in truth, scrupulously tidy room is in. Then, water boiled and tea brewing, he finally __settles himself down, drawing up the other fireside stool and sitting, his hands clasped before him and arms resting on his knees as he leans forward to look her in the eye. _

_'I suppose I'd best begin at the beginning, as they say. Ask what questions you will. I've not had occasion to tell this tale and, truth be told, 'tis a relief to have someone to tell it to.' _

His Lordship wouldn't want me to tell you all of this, but they sent you and you've had a poke through the archives wanting to know his story, and where's the harm, all said and done? If I were him I'd rather his side of the tale were told and not that of another.

It was shortly after midsummer, by my reckoning, some months after the great wyrm Deathwing came to ravage Stormwind. I thought it seemed a funny old thing to send his Lordship out on, fetching something from the north, but we all thought it'd be a good chance for the boy Harland to test his sword-arm. It wasn't long since they sent him back, oh, no. A good thing they sent a mage along with us, all things considered. I'm thinking it was bleeding stupid of them to send us all that way in the first place, especially with the way things went in the end.

We'd come to the village late in the afternoon. At that time of year there were a few hours of light left in the day, but Dawnbringer had said earlier that we'd stay here for the night and then move on. He was optimistic despite the grim weather - and it _was_ awful, siling it down the whole time. I felt as though I'd never be dry again. I asked Dalziel whether it was normal for the time of year and he just grinned at me. Gilneans, eh. But aye, we reached the place with little trouble, dodging the Forsaken patrols near the border rather than taking them on. Not that we'd have lamented cracking a few of the rot-brained wretches' skulls, but the last thing we wanted was for more of them to come looking for their friends. If undead have friends.

Dawnbringer kept going on about the artifact this, the artifact that. Never bloody told us what it was, oh no, that wasn't for the likes of us to know, was it? Cassius knew, as you'd expect, Harland knew as well and he was relishing knowing something we didn't, the little sod. Eriath said if it was an artifact of the Light, then surely the Forsaken would want nothing to do with it, but Cassius gave him a look and said it wasn't the point. Seems that was the official line. I saw Dawnbringer nod slightly at the other paladin as he said that.

Eventually I did find out what it was and if I'd known then, I'd have given Dawnbringer a good old kick in the trousers, consequences be damned.

Where was I? Ah, yes. We arrived and Dawnbringer immediately hared off in the direction of a particular house. The old priest's house, I think he said. Cassius and Harland scurried in his wake like a pair of chicks following a mother hen, chirruping in excitement. When we reached the house, the door was broken in, but the shattered wood had weathered since then. The work of the Forsaken, I assumed. We waited outside while the paladins trawled through the mess left by the interlopers. And waited. Cassius poked his head outside after a while and said we were to find somewhere in the dry to sit while they were at it, so we trooped off into the house next door and tried to get a fire going. Eriath eventually lost his temper with the damp kindling and sent a fireball into the grate. Scorched the fireplace, not that any of us cared just then. Not that the owners were going to be coming home any time soon, if they still lived at all.

So, we waited. The room filled with tobacco smoke as we sat around laughing and drinking and making plans for the trip home. Then the latch rattled and, just as we were all expecting Dawnbringer to march in, sacred relic in hand, the door flew open. It was Dawnbringer all right and the moment I saw him, I knew things had gone to hell. There was no relic to be seen, only a bundle of papers clutched in one gauntleted hand. The rain wasn't quite steaming off him yet, but it was a close thing.

The atmosphere in the room had changed, just like that. We all knew something was up and he hadn't even opened his mouth. And there we'd been sitting, patting outselves on the back like the fools that we were. Nothing in this world is ever that easy. I should have known. The artifact, he said, in a tone that could have frozen the sun to solid ice, had been stolen.

I glanced at Eriath. Don't you dare say a bloody word, I was thinking. Not a single word about the Forsaken, or 'I told you so', or we're not getting out of this room alive. Light be praised, he just stared at the paladin, every bit as stunned as the rest of us. Then the mage cleared his throat and I held my breath.

'Stolen by whom?'

Dawnbringer opened his mouth and took in a deep breath. I waited for the coming storm, but then Cassius laid a hand on the older paladin's shoulder. Then, old Bartimaeus, the man I'd known for so long, was back there and looking his age and then some.

'I'll not lie to you, men. The person – or _thing_ – we must pursue is an enemy of the Light itself. A cursed, twisted servant of the undead has taken what we sought. A necromancer. I will not allow this blasphemy, but any of you who would return home safe, I release from my service. I shall continue alone if I must.'

Well, that was it. There was no question of any of us leaving then, Light knows I wanted to, but no-one else was leaving and I wasn't going to be the first. Dawnbringer looked almost forlorn there, standing in the doorway with rain pouring off the broken guttering onto his head. Then he drew himself up and I took hope there and then. I'd thought for a moment he was beaten. He was nothing of the sort and no knight of the Silver Hand ever was.

'Whoever it was can't be far. Departed in a hurry, by the look of things. He left a few of his possessions behind – papers and the like. Harland! Grab your pack and come with me.' The boy did as he was told and the two headed back towards the house by the chapel.

I ignored Eriath's muttered remark of 'Looting, splendid! Can we join in the fun?' and turned to Dalziel.

'If whoever it was isn't long gone, you can track them, right?'

'In this weather? Aye, perhaps, but it won't be easy. The mud means they'd leave tracks, but the rain? The rain might have washed those away already. It depends how recently they were here.'

'Can you sniff him out? That famous nose of yours?' As soon as the words were spoken, I found myself wishing I could take them back and swallow them down again, but Dalziel either didn't notice or wasn't so touchy about his condition as I'd assumed.

'Ask Dawnbringer when he gets back. It might well be that his own powers are a better guide, if it's undead we're after.'

Cassius stirred in his seat. 'I can't sense anything untoward nearby.'

'Aye, well, Dawnbringer might, mightn't he?' Dalziel said, stabbing the stem of his pipe back into his mouth.

The younger paladin's lips thinned slightly. 'He might. We shall see.'

I could see full well he was smarting at the implication he wasn't strong enough to find the cursed things himself. Well, sod his sense of self-importance, I was thinking, but it was hardly the time to say that.

'We shall see. Mayhap he's wrong and the thief's been gone a while.'

'Dawnbringer said they'd left papers. Well, he didn't say, but the way he was waving the wretched things around suggests they were of some importance. I hardly think he'd be doing the same with some old priest's scribblings.' I glanced at Cassius as Eriath paused, gathering his thoughts.

'Did anyone else see him with a sheaf of documents before he went inside?' asked the mage.

We all shook our heads, but in truth I couldn't really remember, personally. I didn't want to believe the trail might have gone cold and in that light, what Eriath was saying made sense.

'What I mean is, who leaves their papers lying around when they pack up and go? Someone who's in a rush to get out of there, that's who. I'd bet pennies to gold pieces we'll find them in the woods nearby. I just hope old Dawnbringer will have simmered down by then, for I'd not like to be in the shoes of whoever stole the thing when that one's in the best of moods, let alone now.'

Seemingly on cue, we all lapsed into silence.

'Do you-'

Then the latch clattered and the door swung inwards again. Dawnbringer was there, sword in hand, glowering and beside him stood Harland, holding his backpack in both hands.

'Harland here is going to be carrying the samples for us, isn't that right?' The lad nodded obediently, lifting his chin and staring neutrally ahead. Puffing his chest out too, the little tit. Oh, that's unfair of me, he'll make a fine soldier one day, I tell you, but he was getting on my nerves right there and then. It was a mighty shame he'd managed to smear a glob of mud across his face, which spoiled the effect just a tad.

'Eriath. First sign of serious danger and he's going home. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.' The mage nodded curtly. 'Samples, sir?'

'Aye, samples. Whoever got here before us was growing something in the back garden. I want to know exactly what it is – it looks normal enough, but one can never be certain. We'll get those plants back to the Church for analysis. I'm not having another plague on our hands.'

The word 'plague' caught our attention, that's for sure. Only Dalziel seemed unfazed and I suppose he'd have his reasons not to be afraid, if what I know of the Curse is true. I was itching to suggest we burn the stupid weeds and be done, but I kept my trap shut. For all we knew, he'd had Harland harvest the old priest's herb garden and the boy was toting around a packful of leggy sage. But what do I know of such things?

I was mulling this over when I noticed Dawnbringer was speaking again. He was far, far calmer now, not quite his old self again but something was damping down the fires of his anger. Now that he'd caught his breath – so to speak – he could see as well as we all could that we needed a plan and maybe that was what was cooling him off.

'I can't sense any undead nearby and neither can Cassius here. Dalziel, anything?'

'No tracks, sir. Rain's washed them away like I thought it would. I can change and have a sniff 'round if it'd help.'

'We're certain it's the undead we're chasing after? I don't want to fall afoul of a Forsaken patrol that doesn't even have what we're looking for,' said Eriath. Good point, that man.

'Aye,' replied Dawnbringer, his voice low. 'Aye, where you find necromancers, you find undead. Sometimes they're one and the same and I have reason to believe that is the case here. Let's not mess around, I have a better idea. Eriath.'

'Sir?' The mage's eyes widened and from the grimace on his face, I'd say he wasn't that surprised. More like he knew what was coming and didn't like it one bit.

'Take these.' Dawnbringer shoved some grubby papers into Eriath's hands. 'They belonged to the man – thing – we seek. I want you to use them as a focus and scry him out.'

Eriath stared at the paladin, then looked down at the bundle he'd been handed as though he longed for nothing more than to incinerate it.

'Aye, sir. Before I start-'

'What?'

'Before I start, I have to inform you, or remind you, that scrying may work both ways.'

'Yer what?' Dalziel interjected.

'Whilst I do not quite like the...exact phrase he has chosen, that is an excellent question. Do continue,' Dawnbringer said. He was staring at the mage now and no-one I ever knew could ever stare like him. When I first met Eriath, I'd taken him to be a nervy, bookish sort but now he looked the paladin right in the eye and, wizard or no, I found myself taking a liking to the man.

'As I was about to say, it is possible that if I scry on our thief, he will be able to detect my efforts and perhaps even . You said he is a necromancer. He's a mage of sorts and he uses the power of the arcane too, albeit in a twisted form. Perhaps he even studied in Dalaran before the darkness took a hold of his soul.'

'You mean to say he is better equipped than most to deal with such things,' replied Dawnbringer, rubbing his forehead and scowling at Eriath. I'd have been wetting myself at this point, so there you have it, I'd underestimated that man when first I met him.

'Precisely my point! I would go so far as to say it could make things worse.' By now, the mage was scanning through the first page in the bundle.

'Or it could be our only lead. I'll have Dalziel try his luck first, will you do it if he finds nothing?' asked Dawnbringer. Asked where lesser leaders would have issued an order and I think we can both say what would have happened if he'd gone and _told_ the mage what to do just then.

Eriath's gaze was troubled as he met Dawnbringer's eyes – my heart sank when I saw that look on his face. If I'd thought the whole thing couldn't get any worse, that just about put the lid on it. We were chasing a thief - and no normal thief, but a necromancer. We hadn't a pissing clue where our artifact was and our leader wanted us to put up a big red magical flag with 'Here we are!' written on it. Brilliant.

Eriath finally agreed to do as he was asked. Meanwhile, I fervently prayed that Dalziel would come up with a scent we could follow. As the sun set on this happy little scene, we made camp in the village and, thanks to a hip-flask that made the rounds that evening, we all slept like dead men.


End file.
